


Is This Your Card?

by ReidFan



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 10:38:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15338064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReidFan/pseuds/ReidFan
Summary: Curious mailings arise Spencer Reid's suspicion.





	Is This Your Card?

Is This Your Card?

 

A Criminal Minds fanfic

©mccabebabe@hotmail.com

K

Reid, Garcia, Austin

 

 

         “Another one,” Spencer Reid commented, his eyebrows rose as he removed the envelope from the mail slot. His suspicion was confirmed as the handwritten address matched the four previous ones he’d received in the last twelve days.

 

         He knew before opening it that it would be yet another playing card. Already in Reid’s possession were the two, six, ten and ace of hearts. All appeared to have come from the same deck. All had been sent to him in this same manner: mailed in simple white envelopes addressed by hand. All were written using a standard blue stick pen. All had been mailed from small Virginia towns and cities within a couple hours drive of DC. He opened the envelope and his hunch was confirmed. The jack of hearts was inside.

 

         At first Reid thought it was the work of the Face Cards, the notorious bank robbers who’d almost killed JJ’s husband Will LaMontagne. But a quick check confirmed that the only remaining one, Izzy Rogers was still firmly ensconced in a federal penitentiary. He’d asked Penelope Garcia to go through the BAU’s historical files to see if playing cards played a part in any of their other cases; any that would have some motive for taunting Reid or the BAU now. That search had yielded several possibilities, all of which Reid had been able to eliminate. Curtis Banks was dead. Lester Serling was a gambler, but his vice was horse racing not cards.

 

         He climbed the last few stairs and reached his apartment door, unlocking it and entering his home. His answering machine was blinking and his brow furrowed again as he took the ten steps across the floor to his desk and pushed the messages button on the device.

 

         _Taber Theatre. 8 pm tonight. Ticket at will call. Please be there._

         He played the message again. The voice sounded familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. Reid checked his watch. It was just after six p.m.

 

         Pulling his iPhone from his pocket, he entered _Taber Theatre_ intothe mapping app and plotted out his route. The smartphone rang and he touched ‘accept’ and put the phone to his ear.

 

         “You’re going, right, Tall, Smart and Handsome One?” came the voice of Penelope Garcia.

 

         His eyes narrowed and he asked warily, “Going where, Garcia?”

 

         He made a face when he heard Garcia’s sharp intake of breath. Had she given away something she shouldn’t have?

 

         “Penelope, what’s going on?”

 

         “I finished the search, I found no other cases that fit your parameters, Reid. Is it possible that this is not about a case in your past at all?” Something about the way she emphasised _case_ aroused suspicion in the profiler.

 

         “Garcia—“

 

         “Oh please, Spencer, don’t ruin the moment. Don’t make me spoil it. Just be there at 8,” she begged.

 

         “Penelope,” he began again.

 

         She interrupted him, “OH! I know! I’ll pick you up. I’ll be there in an hour. Don’t you move!”

 

         She disconnected the call before he could reply and he spent a long moment looking at his phone before shaking his head and giving in. “Okay, Garcia, you win.”

 

         The theatre had no website, no Internet presence that could tell him what tonight’s show was about. He didn’t possess the level of computer knowledge that Garcia did and wasn’t sure how else to go about searching. Calling the number listed in the phone book only gave him a pre-recorded message indicating that ticket sales were through the box office only.

 

         A look at his watch told him he’d wasted about half an hour on the fruitless search and hurriedly he showered and got dressed in clean clothes. Garcia tended to be early rather than late for any given appointment and he didn’t want to keep her waiting. A knock sounded on his apartment door just as he emerged from the bathroom after shaving.

 

         “Hey Penelope,” he greeted her, grabbed his keys and locked up the apartment, following her back down the stairs to where she’d left her car illegally parked out front.

 

         “Gonna tell me what this is about? You obviously know what’s going on.” He got into the car and Garcia pulled away from the curb, heading into DC’s downtown and the _Taber Theatre._

 

         “Spencer. Please. I promised I wouldn’t. It’s nothing bad. In fact, it’s pretty damned good.”

 

         “Why’d you go along with that case search if you knew—“ he began.

 

         “I played along, 187. It kept you from figuring out what was really going on,” she told him as she pulled into the theatre parking lot. “There’s the front door, will call is at the first ticket window.”

 

         The theatre was small and nondescript. There was no marquee outside and only a small display window in which no play or act was currently advertised. Reid got out of Garcia’s car and looked back at her.

 

         “You’re sure I was supposed to be here tonight?”

 

         Garcia nodded affirmatively. “It’s fine, Suspicious One. Trust me,” she played her trump card, knowing he trusted her implicitly.

 

         Drawing a deep breath, Reid nodded and pushed open the small glass door. The ticket window was unattended but stuck to the glass was a white envelope—the same kind as all the playing cards had been mailed in—with his name on it.

 

         He took the envelope and tore open the flap. Inside he found another playing card, this time, the king of hearts.

 

         Taking several cautious steps, he walked through the small foyer to the double doors at its end. He opened the doors. The theatre was empty. He counted six rows of nine seats each and not a single patron in any of them.

 

         Brow furrowed, he walked forward towards the stage. On the centre seat of the front row, he found another envelope addressed to him in the same blue pen all the others had been addressed.

 

         Opening it, he withdrew the queen of hearts. He turned it over and read aloud, “ _Is this your card?”_

         He heard footsteps behind him and turned quickly, coming face to face with a dark haired woman he hadn’t seen in years.

 

         “Austin!”

 

         “Spencer,” she moved to hug him and he drew her into his arms.

 

         “You left that message,” he realised, voicing his thoughts aloud.

 

         “I did. You are here to see my magic show,” she smiled and leaned into him, “And afterwards, maybe we’ll make some magic of our own.”

        

        


End file.
